


whispers got nothing on the truth

by volunteer_of_hufflepuff



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Gossip, M/M, Secret Relationship, Singer Magnus Bane, Smitten Alec, and magnus tbh, background clizzy, background saia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-10-02 03:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17256440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volunteer_of_hufflepuff/pseuds/volunteer_of_hufflepuff
Summary: Alec doesn't like gossip.Unfortunately for him, his coworker Simon Lewis adores gossiping about singer Magnus Bane and his secret lover.Who happens to be Alec.So Alec just holds his tongue and moves through the day, knowing he'll get to cuddle Magnus when night finally falls.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my amazing beta [zahrabane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zahrabane/pseuds/zahrabane) for steering me clear, especially in the world of coffee.
> 
> This little thing is based on the following [shittyaus](http://shittyaus.tumblr.com)[prompt](http://shittyaus.tumblr.com/post/169273849588/submission-a-is-famous-b-is-not#notes): _Everyone knows that A has to be dating someone because A keeps coming out with love songs but no one can figure out who it is. Cue everyone in B’s life debating the matter and B trying SO hard to stay quiet._
> 
> As always, hope you enjoy this little piece that I wrote on Boxing Day but is my first 2019 published fic due to reasons including titles and summaries like to be elusive. Also, I'm on holiday and am posting this from my phone, so. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> If anyone wants to live-tweet this fic, you can use #wgnottfic . So. There's that.

There are whispers dancing across the room when Alec enters the coffee shop.

He ignores them, choosing instead to push forward to the counter. It’s his normal haunt, so the whitewashed walls with their hanging plants are all too familiar, as is the artfully drawn menu behind the counter that hurts his eyes.

“Good Morning,” Clary - the barista - greets way too brightly for the early hour of 7 o’clock in the morning.

Alec grunts. “Morning,” he mumbles, because Izzy had been insisting that he be more polite to _darling_ Clary. “Usual.”

Clary, who is clearly much smarter than his sister, simply nods and gets on with making him his coffee.

It’s a dark roast with a dash of milk and sugar, crafted in a way that the Starbucks right next to his apartment just can’t get right.

Alec thinks that he is exuding his all too familiar aura of _leave me alone_ well until someone taps him on the shoulder, and before he can snap at the person he realises that it is simply Simon Lewis, his annoying coworker.

“What?” he grumbles.

Simon’s eyes are dancing with mirth. “Magnus Bane dropped a song at midnight! And it’s the most obvious one yet.”

Magnus Bane. Alec’s boyfriend and all around popular singer. Not that anyone knew anything about Alec’s dating life.

“So?” Alec says, closing his eyes, counting backwards in his head as Magnus had asked him to.

“You’re really living under a rock, Alec,” Simon replies, “Magnus constantly alludes to a romantic interest.”

Ah. Right. _That_ discourse. Perfect.

“I don’t care what some pop star is doing in his personal time,” Alec says, grabbing his coffee.

Correction: he knew and cared about what his _boyfriend_ did, who happened to be a pop star.

Simon powers on, unaware or deliberately ignoring Alec’s obvious distaste for the subject. “We think it’s something that’s long-term and that it’s a secret -”

Alec scoffs, the coffee warming his hands. “Obviously it’s a secret, otherwise you would have stopped blabbering on about it.”

Simon glares at him. “Hey, just because you don’t care, doesn’t mean that other people don’t.”

Well, Alec did care - about the longevity and health of his own, personal romantic relationship. Not particularly about what other people thought of it.

“Anyway,” Simon continues, “they’re clearly not famous, and Magnus obviously misses them and is so smitten.”

Magnus, whispering sweet confessions into his ear. Magnus, his voice crackling on the phone, irritated at the lifestyle his career constantly tries to throw at him.

“What if they’re fake?” Alec counters. “You know, creative license and all that.”

Sipping his coffee, Alec steps away from the waiting area, but before he can leave, Simon grabs his arm.

“You know,” Simon whispers, “I think Magnus and whoever his significant other is - who is totally real, by the way - would be an adorable couple.”

Alec shakes off Simon’s hand and leaves the shop.

Damn right they are adorable. But that ’s only - and would only ever be - their business, not the whole world’s.

…

Unfortunately, Alec works with Simon.

So, when he walks into work an hour later, Simon is already there, tapping away at a case.

Alec didn’t particularly understand how Simon had gotten into the police force.

Some miracle, most likely.

But what is irking Alec the most as he walks in, scarf thrown around his neck, is that he clearly hasn’t stopped talking about Alec’s love life.

Well, it’s not like he knows that it’s Alec’s. But still. It’s irritating.

“Anyway,” Simon says to Maia, who isn’t really paying attention, “so we think that we’ve narrowed down where Magnus’ lover lives to a city.”

Maia rolls her eyes, scribbling down something on her pad.

Alec knew there was a reason why he liked her.

“Please,” Maia replies drily, “the suspense is killing me.”

“New York,” Simon whispers. “Magnus’ permanent residence.”

“Simon,” Maia interrupts, “I love you, but I really don’t care.”

Alec chooses that moment to walk in, in the aim of preventing Simon from being strangled by his own girlfriend.

“Neither do I,” Alec adds, “get back to work. Gossip later.”

It’s at moments like these that Alec wants to publicise his relationship with Magnus simply to get Simon and the rest of the world to shut up - but it’s not just his news to tell.

Magnus doesn’t want their relationship put under constant media scrutiny, Alec likes his privacy - and, well, they literally live together and have been dating for several years, but the moment the media finds out about their relationship. Well. Let’s just say that Alec wouldn’t be able to get a moment of silence.

It would be like constantly hanging out with Simon.

Alec sighs, sitting down at his desk and opening up some footage from the bodega down the road. It’s dull work - watching the tape over and over again to ID the thief - but in the end, the end justifies the means.

…

Magnus is currently in New York, stopping by for the release of the first song for his next album - which is the song that everyone keeps on gushing about.

And that everyone is playing.

Alec wonders about his life’s decisions, sometimes; and especially in times like this, when Maia ropes him into eating lunch with her and Simon at the local Potbelly.

Which is currently, of course, belting Magnus’ latest single.

“So,” Simon says after they sit down, “as I was saying before, there’s this line that just pinpoints Magnus’ lover’s location as New York.”

“Shut up,” Alec and Maia chime in at the same time.

Simon, unruffled, continues. “It’s an obscure reference, really. _I may be in paradise, but my heart’s back home._ ”

 _Oh. Yep. Simon is definitely right_ , Alec thinks, barely resisting the urge to slip out his phone and text Magnus a million smitten messages.

The novelty never really wears off, of being someone’s muse, especially when it’s not something that you can exactly ignore.

Thankfully, Maia’s brain is still switched on. “I guess,” she says, “but what does it really matter to us? Clearly, they keep their relationship secret because they don’t want the attention, or at least Magnus’ partner doesn’t.”

Alec really needs to do something for Maia, like buy her those earrings she’s been eyeing from Pandora - though he thinks Simon may have already bought them for her, he’s not completely useless.

Simon stops. “Oh,” he says, quiet. “I never really thought of that.”

And then Simon finally stops rambling, as the song comes to a close.

…

That evening, Alec does not see Simon.

He left work just before Simon, having solved five cases and, well, it’s not like Magnus is home every night.

But tonight, he is.

When Alec enters their apartment, there’s no singing, but there is music, soft notes spreading out throughout the room, the humble tune of a lone violin.

Alec breathes a sigh of relief. Whilst he really does love Magnus’ music and supports his career wholeheartedly, tonight he wants to spend time with Magnus, his boyfriend, not Magnus Bane, the celebrity.

The apartment smells like basil and mint, comforting if not for the scent itself but what it signifies.

Alec takes off his shoes, hangs his jacket on the back of a chair and walks into the kitchen.

There’s an apron tied around Magnus’ waist, from what Alec can see. He’s humming under his breath as he stirs a pot of bolognese sauce, the pasta simmering away next to it.

Alec walks up and hugs Magnus from behind. “Hey,” he whispers.

Magnus turns off the flame underneath the sauce before he turns around, his body softening under Alec’s hold. “Hey,” he replies, warmth shining in his eyes.

Magnus leans forward to press a kiss to Alec’s lips. It’s short and sweet, but already Alec feels lighter.

“Love you,” Magnus mumbles, shifting back around to finish the sauce.

“I know,” Alec says, letting Magnus go with great reluctance, going to sit on a stool across the kitchen bench. “And I love you too,” he adds. “But I could go without my co-worker trying to figure out where I live.”

Magnus laughs, shaking his head. “Sorry, darling, but the line felt so poignant.”

“I don’t mind,” Alec cuts in, “it’s not your fault, anyway.”

And it’s not. The creator cannot be held responsible for the way that people overreact and misinterpret their creations.

Magnus sighs. “The song is doing really well, so I’ve taken tomorrow off.”

“Breakfast in bed?” Alec asks, trying to not let hope slip into his voice.

“Of course, darling,” Magnus replies.

And this is why Alec doesn’t mind the secrecy that inevitably comes with their relationship or his coworkers poking their noses into his private life.

Because he's got Magnus - sweet, hard-working, caring Magnus - and, in the end, that’s all that really matters.


	2. lies got nothing on the truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having to deal with gossip about his love life, Alec finally gets the chance to rest and relax with his beloved. 
> 
> Without Simon interfering, one way or another?
> 
> Don't get cocky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the crowd asked for a sequel, and I delivered! 
> 
> hope you enjoy and if you want to live-tweet (or talk about this fic on another social media) your reactions, feel free to use the tag #wgnottfic.

It’s so blissfully quiet, here, in the loft where no one but their loved ones come.

It’s a place drenched in domesticity; the living room littered with books and chocolate wrappers - those awfully cheap ones from Walmart that Magnus can’t help but love.

There are no flashing lights; no sickly sweet journalists trying to get the latest scoop. Here, wrapped in the lights that they call home, it’s a safe haven locked away from an outside world that shreds people to smithereens.

They bought it together, two years ago, after a year or so of dating. The view is amazing, tucked away by frosted glass and the high walls that border their balcony.

The night is calm inside, sheltered from the wind that lashes at their windows.

The lights are dimmed. And Magnus retreats back to the kitchen.

So Alec sits down on the couch, in an effort to not distract Magnus. He does like his dinner not to be burnt, after all.

The TV flickers on. There’s not much on of any interest, these days, with everyone flocking to Netflix and all of the other million streaming sites.

It’s the news, actually, that’s playing now: but the segment brimming with murder and misery has already swept by, thankfully.

He faces enough misery during the day. He doesn’t need - or want - to see more of it when he comes home to simply bask in Magnus’ presence, to love and cherish him.

Magnus’ chuckles drift over from the kitchen. “Look, I’m famous,” he says with a grin on his lips, pointing at the TV with a wooden spoon.

Alec groans, burrowing further into the couch. It’s so soft; Magnus had insisted that he would not let comfort be sacrificed for the sake of appearance in their home.

 _Their home._ It still sets sparks racing within Alec, sparks as gentle as the caress of Magnus’ hands.

It shouldn’t be surprising, this level of fame ensnaring Magnus, not after five years of knowing him. But it still is slightly startling to see his name casually tossed about on national news.

The reporter on the screen is smiling. On the bottom flashes _Magnus Bane’s latest song a hit: anyone surprised?_.

“Oh, you should have warned me,” Alec retorts, “does that mean I have to fight for your attention?”

There’s mirth dancing in Magnus’ eyes, but it is so fond. “I think you’ve already captured my attention,” Magnus says, turning around to give the pasta a stir, “though some flirtation wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Shush,” Alec replies, blindly groping for a blanket, “let me listen.”

Before Alec turns to face the TV again, he catches Magnus rolling his eyes. “Of course, dear.”

The reporter is out somewhere in New York, the wind whipping her coat.

“National heartthrob Magnus Bane has done it again with another smashing single,” she says, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Unfortunately, gossip says that he’s already taken.”

“Must be having a low news night,” Magnus mutters.

Alec squints at the screen. “Um, I think I accidentally went to the Celebrity Gossip channel.”

Magnus sighs, shaking his head. “That explains it.”

Alec’s about to turn the channel off - he couldn’t care less about gossip - but then a familiar face catches his attention.

“Simon?” Alec chokes, glad that he’s not currently consuming anything.

Magnus frowns as he walks over to the sink. “Is that your co-worker?”

“Yeah,” Alec replies, still a little shell-shocked.

He thought that, after today, that Simon was going to lay off on gossiping about his love life. Apparently not.

“So,” the reporter continues, “what do you think?”

“Um,” Simon says, blinking repeatedly due to the bright light that someone is currently blasting into his eyes.

The look of sheer surprise dawning on Simon’s face does comfort Alec: Simon isn’t doing this voluntarily.

“I don’t really think it’s my place to say,” he says, rubbing his ear.

“Don’t you want to know who Magnus’ elusive lover is?” the reporter presses.

“Nah, not really.” Simon shrugs, pulling at his scarf. “As a wise friend pointed out to me today, if it’s private, it’s private for a good reason.”

“Oh.” The reporter’s face drops. “Okay, then.”

“What about you?” the reporter says, and just like that, an irritated Maia is pulled onto the screen.

Maia scowls. “Don’t care,” she snaps, “leave us alone.”

She tugs at Simon’s sleeve, and he walks alongside her, away from the reporter.

Magnus is now scraping pasta into two separate bowls, one of which is chipped from when Izzy got a little too ambitious on moving day. Of course, it’s Magnus favourite. “They’re not too bad,” Magnus comments.

Alec twists around. “No, they really aren’t,” he admits. “Simon just talks too much.”

Magnus hums, turning back around to take the sauce off the heat.

“Well,” the reporter says, laughing a little frantically.

Alec groans. Now that Simon and Maia have gone, there’s really no reason to let such an inane channel keep on playing, but he’s dropped the remote onto the ground. And that’s simply too far away.

The reporter continues. “I think that dating a celebrity comes with a price. And if Magnus’ lover isn’t willing to pay this price, then they should just leave Magnus alone.”

There’s the harsh thud of the pot being thrust unceremoniously back onto the stove.

Magnus runs over, not even bothering to scramble on the ground for the remote, heading straight for tv, pressing the off button with an unrivalled vigour.

The TV flickers into a burst of colour and dies.

When Magnus turns, he is panting, fury entrenched in his eyes.

“Sorry darling,” he says, flopping down onto the couch next to Alec, “she was starting to get under my skin a little.”

The words the reporter had said did sting, if only slightly, but it wasn’t anything that Alec hadn’t heard before.

“Hey,” Alec replies, cupping Magnus’ face, “you know I don’t care about any of that crap.”

“I know,” Magnus says, closing his eyes, leaning into his touch. “I know, and I love you for it. But I hate it; hate the way that the media just hates on you because you’re with me - and they don’t even know who you are, just that you’re dating me.”

“It’s not your fault.” Alec leans forward, embracing Magnus with a hug.

They both melt.

“I know,” Magnus repeats, “but I still hate it.”

Alec lets Magnus simply rest for a while, feeling his chest move up and down. It’s not awkward, but peaceful and grounding in its familiarity.

Magnus was here because he loved Alec and Alec loved Magnus right back.

That wasn’t going to change because of some jealous, low rate reporter on a crappy gossip channel that no one even watched.

Alec kisses Magnus’ forehead. “You may want to just lie here forever,” he finally cuts in, “but I think the pasta is getting cold, and it never tastes half as good when microwaved.”

“But you’re so warm,” Magnus mumbles against his neck half-heartedly.

Yet Alec still sits up. Magnus grumbles, rubbing his eyes.

Alec carefully peels Magnus’ arms off along with the blanket, getting up to drizzle the sauce over their pasta.

Magnus is still lying on the couch.

Shaking his head and trying to not let a fond smile slip through, he grabs the grater and a block of cheese from the fridge.

He grates the cheese, and as he watches it melt into the pasta he reflects on how he had, perhaps, exaggerated the coolness of the pasta.

“What wine do you want tonight?” he calls out.

“Red,” comes the muffled answer.

“Pinot or shiraz?”

“Surprise me,” Magnus replies, which is code for _I trust you_.

Magnus is very particular about his wine.

Alec pulls an aged bottle of French wine from the small wine rack next to their fridge. He doesn’t drink much, but he has to admit that it has a certain charm, the intricate carving of vines engraved into dark rosewood with great care.

There’s already a wine glass, tinted a stunning purple gradient, waiting on their dining table when Alec brings their dinner over.

Alec snorts, putting the bottle down next to the glass. “Come on, dinner’s ready.”

Magnus grumbles, but he gets up, his hair now an artful mess, almost falling into his eyes now that the gel has softened.

“Sorry,” he mutters, “I know I should be used to it, and I am, but when they attack you -”

“There’s no need to apologise,” Alec cuts in, “heavens knows that my blood boils every time I hear them slander your name.”

Magnus nods, slipping into the seat across from Alec.

The table is quaint: carved out of pinewood, another unique item commissioned from a local carpenter, the legs gnarled into the shape of angels holding the weight of the world.

“But you must know that I would never leave you,” Alec continues, “because I love you, Magnus and a few envious reporters aren’t going to scare me away.”

“I know,” Magnus whispers, “thank you. I love you too. And don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t,” Alec promises, like he is promising to guard their love with his life. “Because we remind each other every day.”

With that, Magnus leans forward to kiss Alec; soft and chaste yet with the passion of a blazing bonfire.

When he pulls back, their love continues to linger between them, as it always does.

Their love is a constant humming force, never absent, underlying and strengthening their everyday lives.

Alec raises his glass to take a sip. It’s only water, but it’s in a wine glass that complements Magnus, though the gradient is blue instead of purple.

It’s a moment wrapped up in silk, burning like the central hearth of a village.

Well, that is, until Alec’s phone rings.

Alec sighs, dropping his hand to his pocket, instinctive waves of worry rolling over him like the pull and tug of the moon. “Sorry, but I should check.”

With adoration shining in his eyes, Magnus waves off the apology. “Don’t worry, love, I won’t flee.”

Alec half-heartedly nods, noting that it is Izzy who has broken his stolen moment of peace.

“It’s Izzy,” he says.

Magnus nods, putting down his wine glass. “In that case, go ahead.”

Alec answers the call.

“Alec,” Izzy says, a little rushed, “looks like I’m not completely hopeless after all.”

Alec frowns. “I never said you were,” he replies, choosing each word with immense care, “what did you do?”

Izzy laughs, and it is the laugh of the angels. “Well, I just said yes.”

Alec can’t help but furrow his eyebrows. “To what? Should I just put you on speaker?”

“Oh, Magnus is home,” Izzy replies distractedly, “yeah, of course, go ahead, makes my life easier, one less person to tell.”

Alec puts his phone down on the table, pushing away his bubbling worry without much success, a frown creeping onto his face once again.

“So what happened?” Magnus asks, voice warm and rolling across the room like a spring breeze.

Izzy’s voice is bubbly like a mountain stream when she next speaks. “Clary asked me out!”

Alec’s brain short-circuits for a second. Clary. And his sister?

“Ah, yes,” Magnus says, “I had Biscuit fretting on the phone to me last night, I’m glad she finally went through with it.”

“I’m happy for you too, Iz,” Alec adds, lest Izzy latches onto this as an opportunity to lambast him for ‘not being supportive’.

“We’re going to Central Park on Friday evening,” Izzy continues, “she wants to show me her favourite spot where she likes to watch the squirrels. Probably pick up something to eat on our way too.”

“That’s great, Izzy,” Alec replies, “but can you call back after our date?

“Oh, of course. Congratulations on the success, Magnus!”

“Congratulations on getting a date, Isabelle,” Magnus replies softly.

The phone switches off.

“Well that’s great for Isabelle,” Magnus says, idly fiddling with his dragon ear cuff, “and Clary.”

Alec splutters. “Wait, did you know about this?”

Magnus raises an eyebrow. “I’m not blind, Alexander, their pining was particularly potent.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Alec mutters under his breath.

Magnus laughs, shaking his head, holding out a hand in mock greeting. “Pot, meet kettle.”

And if that wasn’t true: but two years, two years of gradual, warm friendship dissolving into languid looks had evolved into the most beautiful romantic relationship Alec has ever had.

“Shush,” Alec retorts, “we’re here now, aren’t we?”

Magnus softens, lowering his hand. “We are.”

Alec pockets his phone. “Shouldn’t we eat now before your hard work irreversibly cools?”

“Of course,” Magnus says, swirling his pasta around his fork, “but we mustn’t let the conversation fall to the wayside.”

And it doesn’t. Like a fire, it sways and dances throughout the night, glowing like an ember that refuses to die out.

As the night fades away into bliss, Alec can’t stop his thoughts from drifting to the ring he has stashed at his sister’s place.

Maybe it isn’t too soon, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and kudos (and bookmarks! and subscriptions) are always appreciated.
> 
> My [tumblr](https://www.mirrorofliterature.tumblr.com) where you can send me asks about my writing, like what's going on with the wips I updated last May.


End file.
